


I Had a Dream

by americamarauders



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: F/M, Scientist!Reader, please be kind to it, some hecking words, this is very very very personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americamarauders/pseuds/americamarauders
Summary: She dreamed about him once. And then he appeared in front of her and she just couldn’t believe it.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Female Character(s), Jason Todd/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	I Had a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> so, here it is. the last of this year. this one is special. it’s based on a dream i had with a guy I went to middle school with. It’s immensely personal. Basically reader is me, the friends I mention are my actual friends and the coversations with the therapist are vaguely based on conversations I had with my own therapist (specially the first one). I hope y’all like it. I had a blast writing it.

“I just haven’t had the opportunity to be in love, I guess,” she explained, her psychologist writing stuff she had said down. 

“Is that so?” the therapist lifted her eyes, her eyebrows shot up in confusion. 

“Yeah,” she shrugged. 

“‘Cause the way I see it is you’ve never allowed yourself to fall in love,” the therapist commented. 

She felt heat coming to her cheeks and tears rise in her eyes. “No, no, that’s not like that,” she whispered, refusing to admit that her psychologist was right. 

The therapist let out a small sigh. “Have you had crushes when you were a kid?”

She shook her head. “The boys weren’t that nice and…” she drifted off, thinking of a couple of crushes she might have developed when she was a young teen. “No boys were interested in me.”

“I find that hard to believe, Y/N,” the therapist said. “Let’s think of it this way: were there any boys who picked on you?”

She snorted. “Plenty,” she responded. “I wasn’t exactly popular in middle school,” she shrugged. 

“Yes, yes, I remember,” the psychologist said. 

“There was one boy that used to run around recess calling me a weird nickname he had for me: peanut.”

“That’s not weird,” the therapist pondered. 

“It is when you’re 13 and you love eating packed peanuts in recess,” she countered. 

“Well, this boy did you like him?” the therapist asked. 

“Yeah, he was nice,” she omitted that she had a crush on him in ninth grade before she left the school and never saw him again. “He was one of the few boys that talked to me without wanting me to help him with his homework or anything.

“I remember one day in eight grade he stopped to talk to me before class but I was kinda rude to him and he never really talked to me again,” she shrugged. 

“Why?” the psychologist quizzed.

“I thought he wanted something out of me,” she sniffed, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “They all wanted something out of me. It was safe to assume, I guess.”

“You scared the boy away, Y/N,” the therapist said kindly. “I think that boy liked you,” she finished. 

“No, no, Todd, he--” she shook her head negatively, “he was kinda popular, I was a nobody. He didn’t like me.”

“He liked you, Y/N.”

#

#

#

That conversation stayed in her head for days. The words of her therapist echoing in her head. You scared the boy away. The truth was: she had scared the boy away. It was heartbreaking to think that she could have had what she wanted, a romance, someone to hold and to be held by. Instead she was alone, an adult who had never even dated anyone for that matter. 

It wasn’t just that boy from middle school. It was every boy that ever tried getting too close to her. It would be comical if it wasn’t so tragic. A romantic at heart, completely alone. Thank god she had her friends. 

She hadn’t thought about Jason Todd in years. He hadn’t so much as graced her thoughts since she last saw him in ninth grade. Then she dreamt of him. And things started to change. 

In her dreams she was his girlfriend. He was loving, he would caress her delicately, look into her eyes lovingly as if he was seeing the whole world in her eyes. He would kiss her tenderly, she could feel his lips when she woke up. 

He had gotten so big in her dreams, even more handsome than he was when he was 15. Jason was a lanky and tiny kid, but somehow her brain imagined him tall--very tall--and very muscular. His eyes were green, and not the blue she remembered. He looked beautiful and waking up after the dream, she could feel her heart race. 

After she dreamed about him the first time, she dismissed it. It was her brain making weird connections, it made sense: she had talked about her pseudo-love life and about him that week. But after the second dream she knew there was something wrong. 

She decided to look him up on the internet. What appeared wasn’t something she liked. 

News coverage about how he had died mysteriously. ‘Adopted son of Bruce Wayne dies at age 16.’ She couldn’t help but tear up a bit on those headlines. The most recent ones though reported him being wrongfully declared dead and how he was estranged from his family. It even showed a couple of pictures of him and she was surprised to see her dreams were not very far off.

Other than a couple of tabloid headlines, there was no trace of this guy on the internet. He was almost a ghost story, and she felt her heart beating faster in anxiety. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for him. 

She otherwise forgot about him--other than the occasional thought about what if that would cross her mind. That is, until she literally stumbled into him. 

#

#

#

A part time job to help with the finances, that’s what working in the bookshop was supposed to be. It would help pay tuition and her insurance. Her parents had said that she didn’t need to do it, they could pay and it wouldn’t even make a dent in their bank account. But it wasn’t for them, it was for herself, a sense of achievement. 

It was supposed to be just that. No meet cutes, no falling in love in a bookshop, just boring old work. Work for half of the afternoon, close up, get her salary and move on with her life. 

The shop was quiet that day. No one had come in to buy or even browse anything. It didn’t really bother her. She occupied herself with other things: homework, studying, drawing, texting her friends, the list was endless. She was so engrossed in her drawing, she didn’t even hear the bell ringing and the door opening. 

She heard someone clear their throat and she looked up from her drawing to meet their eyes. She gaped a bit as she met his gaze, intense blue eyes meeting hers. She closed her mouth quickly, trying to cover the fact that she was clearly staring at him. The gods must be really enjoying themselves playing with her life like that. Of course, she thought, of course that he would fucking appear in her life like that: out of nowhere. The one day she had a calm evening and Jason Todd, the guy who was haunting her dreams and thoughts like a ghost, appears. 

“May I help you?” she asked, professionally, ignoring her racing heart and the anxiety increasing in the pit of her stomach. 

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m lookin’ for the complete H.P. Lovecraft collection. I stopped by the other day and a guy separated it for me,” he explained. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, and she hoped that he hadn’t recognized her. 

“Oh,” she said. “Wait a moment, I’ll check if it’s in the back.”

She walked controlled, to mask the fact that she wanted to run out of that place as fast as she could. 

She closed the inventory door and leaned her back against it. She breathed heavily, trying to calm herself. It was only a guy, she had talked to plenty of guys before. She calmed herself down, steadying her breathing. 

She glanced around the shelves looking for his book. The sooner she ended this the better. She could move on with her life without his face haunting her. She found the book (almost like a brick). She got it and took a deep breath before stepping out of the inventory and calmly walking to the front desk. 

He stood there calmly , his eyes glancing around the shop. He had picked another book to buy, something significantly smaller than Lovecraft's collection. She itched to see what it was, before catching herself and stopping her curiosity. She couldn't get attached, even if just a little bit. 

"Here," she said, resting the book on the counter. She smiled at him kindly, her hand open for the book resting in his hands. He handed it to her, confusion plastered on his face.

"It's 60 dollars," she stated, calmly and controlled. 

He handed her the money. She accepted it and packed his books neatly. He clocked her moves as she did so, she felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze. 

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked. "I feel like I know you."

She gulped imperceptibly. So he had recognized her. Goddammit. "I don't think so," she replied, hesitant on whether or not he would see right through her lie. 

He hummed. His eyes then shifted down to her name tag, and she knew he had put the pieces together. "Did we go to school together?" He insisted. 

She smiled tightly. "I don't know, probably," she shrugged. "I went to a pretty big school, there were a lot of people there," a lie. Gotham Academy was big, but it was nowhere near as big as she made it sound. It was the kind of school where you knew everyone, even if you had never talked to them. 

He smiled at her coyly, sensing her awkwardness. Maybe it was just that that made him finally remember her, or maybe not. Either way she did not like that he indeed recognized her fully. "I remember you," he trailed off. "We had English together," he stated. 

She pretended to search her memory for him. She couldn't give away that just days before she had dreamed about him yet again. How pathetic, dreaming about a boy from middle school. "Oh yeah," she dragged. "Jason, right?"

"That's me," he whispered. "I thought you had moved."

She smiled, it was cute that he remembered enough of her to know that she didn't stay in Gotham for a couple of years. "I did move," she explained. "I came back for college."

"Why?" He asked, confused by her statement. "Gotham is a shit city, you should've stayed elsewhere."

She tried not to take offense to it. "It has its appeal," she shrugged. "Besides the science program in Gotham U is very good, it was the best move."

Jason smirked. "Science huh?"

"Yeah," she breathed out. She slid the package to him, a sign that she maybe was done talking. 

Thank the gods his phone rang. She couldn't handle anymore of that. She averted her attention once more to her drawing, his voice talking angrily on the phone only a background noise to her. "I gotta go," he said and her eyes went back to him. "It was good seeing you, Y/N."

She tried not to notice how her heart picked up the pace at the sound of her name leaving his lips. "You too," she smiled shyly and he left the store, the bell ringing as he closed the door and her mind plagued by the image of him. 

#

#

#

If she thought Jason Todd had plagued her mind and dreams before she had seen him at the bookshop, now he was downright living in her head rent free. She just couldn’t get him out of her mind. The dreams about him, the ones where she would be tenderly loved by him, were getting more frequent and more intense. When she woke up, she would still feel his arms around her and an emptiness would settle in her chest. 

Why did it have to happen to her? She just wanted to go through life unnoticed, why did the gods have to pull this prank on her?

She huffed as she closed the shop, the sky already dark enough to be considered dangerous to stay out. It was only a couple of blocks to her car, she could get through the walk unscathed, she had done it before. 

But then again, it seemed that Fate had it out for her. 

She could feel someone following her the moment she had left the shop. The looming presence of a threat made her hyper aware of everything, her heart beating out of her chest. She tried to think of ways to lose the guy--she assumed it was a guy, it usually was--but her mind came blank. She thought in passage if her friends would miss her, who would contact them if she were to die. She shook the thought quickly out of her head and hastened her pace. 

But the guy gained on her, and as soon as she could blink, she felt his arm snake around her neck. She gasped for air desperately, clawing at his arm trying to take it off. It was then that she felt a cold metal press against her back. A gun. She felt the tears coming to her eyes. If the guy were to pull the trigger, the best case scenario was she wouldn’t be able to move her limbs anymore. The worst, well, who would tell her friends she had died in a robbery?

“Give me your bag,” the guy--now confirmed for his gruff and raspy voice--whispered in her ear.

“Please, take it,” she begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

She heard the guy scoff as he pressed the gun further on her back. She whimpered. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice laced with malice.

It was then she heard a loud bang coming from behind her. She thought the guy had pulled the trigger, and she was ready to feel the wetness of her blood sipping through her clothes. Instead, all she felt was a splash on her shoulder and his grip on her loosening considerably. The guy had fallen to the ground behind her, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain. She turned around to see him and a pool of his own blood forming beneath him. She was paralyzed in fear of the sight. 

“The police’re on their way,” a distorted voice sounded. She looked up and found a massive man, standing menacingly on top of the thieves body. His red helmet glinted in the moon’s glow. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. 

She breathed out. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I--I--,” she teared up again, “I would’ve died. You saved my life.”

“It’s what I do,” he shrugged. “I’ll walk you.”

“How about the…” she pointed towards the guy laying on the floor in pain.

“If he wants to live to see another day, he’ll stay exactly where he is,” he said, his voice serious and threatening. 

“Shouldn’t I give the police a statement?” she whispered. 

She swore she heard a chuckle of amusement through the voice disruptor he had in his helmet. “I have a video to prove he was tryin’ to rob you, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna,” he explained softly. “So, wanna lead the way?”

She looked down at her feet, nervous to look at him. She nodded and started to walk once again towards her car. He walked behind her respectfully, and she felt the difference between him and the robber. He wasn’t trying to get something out of her, and his large physique felt like there was a literal wall following her to her car. 

It was a blink till she got to her car. Her hand rested on the door handle and she gave a deep breath, trying desperately to calm herself, trying to remember the breathing exercises her psychologist had taught her. She opened her mouth to say something to the Red Hood, her eyes searching for him next to her. 

But he was gone. And what was left was just the memory of him in her mind. 

#

#

#

“So how was your week?” her psychologist asked, sitting on her armchair, Y/N sitting cross-legged in front of her. 

“Crazy,” she rolled her eyes in disbelief, her mouth quirking in a weird shape. “So much stuff happened.”

“Oh do tell,” the psychologist urged her. 

She sighed, thinking where to begin. “Well, you remember the boy I told you about?”

“Yes, Jason wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” she popped. “He showed up at the store the other day.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, honestly,” she replied breathily. “I didn’t even realize he had come in.”

“No way,” her therapist responded in disbelief. She seemed invested in the pranks the fates were pulling on her patient.

“I was too invested in my drawing, mind you,” she smiled. “It’s been weeks since I’ve done a decent piece of scribble so I was excited.”

“Yes, yes right,” her therapist acknowledged. “And how about Jason? Did you talk to him?”

“Briefly,” she responded. “I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me, but he did.” 

“What did he say?” she quizzed, making notes on her paper. 

“He asked if he knew me, which I denied at first,” her psychologist looked at her angrily and she shrugged. “Then he finally placed me and asked what I was doing in Gotham. I answered, said I was in college. He said I should’ve stayed elsewhere ‘cause Gotham apparently sucks.”

“He isn’t wrong,” her therapist pondered. 

“He isn’t but I like Gotham,” she shrugged once again. 

“Did you get his number?” her therapist quizzed her. 

“Nope,” she denied. “He left pretty quickly.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” the psychologist smiled. 

“It’s true!” she laughed. “He answered a phone call, got angry at something I didn’t really understand and left pretty quickly.”

The therapist hummed. “You think you’ll see him again?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “He got pretty big books when he appeared, I think it’ll be a while before he needs another.”

“You never know,” she conceded. “What if he does? Do you imagine what you would do?”

“I mean,” she trailed off, “what I want to do is talk to him and maybe ask for his number,” she finished coyly. “What I will do is be very weird and awkward and scare him off.”

“Y/N,” the therapist warned. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know,” she waved off. “I won’t do it. I’ll try to be friendly.”

“Good. What else happened this week?”

“Almost died,” she swallowed, nervously, “quite literally, I’m afraid.”

“What?”

“Was leaving the store, it was pretty early in the night, I think. And a guy got me by the neck and pressed his gun to my spine,” she recounted quietly. “I thought I would die.”

“But you didn’t,” her therapist comforted her. “What happened after?”

“The Red Hood showed up,” she sniffed. “Shot the guy in the shoulder and then knocked him out.”

“When did that happen?” her therapist’s voice was filled with worry.

“2 days ago,” she replied quietly. 

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” the psychologist cooed. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, her eyes filled with tears that did not dare to spill. “The Red Hood was very gentle, he walked me to my car and made sure I was safe.”

“Uhum,” the therapist hummed, jotting down something. She always wondered what her therapist wrote down about her, but maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know what was written down. 

“I did some research on him afterwards,” she diverted the subject out of her. “Turns out he’s very famous for protecting street kids.”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically. “There’s a couple of stories going around social media of people who witnessed him, you know…” she trailed off. “He seems to look out for people in poorer neighborhoods. Like Crime Alley. He seems very active there,” she added.

“I didn’t know that,” the psychologist said. 

“Yeah, you’d get mistaken by the bat symbol on his chest, but there’s very few reports of him getting involved in Batman-esque adventures.”

Her therapist laughed. “And what might those be?”

“You know,” she shrugged. “Aliens, psycho-clowns, riddles, those kinds of stuff. Although there are a couple of people that said he did have a crazy huge fight with Black Mask once, there doesn’t seem to be any other. If there is, he sure made a good job hiding it.”

“You seem very excited about this Red Hood,” the therapist noted. 

“He was nice,” she shrugged once more. “And I’m thankful he does what he does. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t,” she added quietly. “Literally.”

“Well, then we got to make sure you live your best life after this second chance you got granted.”

#

#

#

As soon as the words ‘what if you see him again’ left her therapist’s mouth, she knew she would see Jason Todd again. Because the Universe was out for her like that. It was only a matter of when. 

Turns out ‘when’ was a week later after the first time she saw him. She concluded he was either a hoarder or a very fast reader. She hoped it would be the latter. 

This time, she was paying attention. She was organizing the shelves calmly, and as odd as it seemed, that was the best part of her job. It eased her anxiety to know everything was where it was supposed to be.

She jumped at the sound of the bell, her heart beating faster and her mind racing at the worst case scenarios. But it was just him. And she was entirely relieved that it was just Jason. She settled the book that was about to go on the shelf--‘there you go Little Women, back to where you belong’--and got out from behind her hiding spot. “Hey, Jason,” she said and his eyes found hers. 

He opened a smile that knocked the air out of her. “Oh hey,” he breathed out. 

She swallowed her nerves down. She would make her therapist proud, goddammit. “How can I help you?” she asked, opening a smile she hoped it was charming. 

“I finished the books I bought the other day,” he said, his face a tad bit nervous. Did she make him nervous? “Do you have any recommendations?” he finished, his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. 

“It depends what you’re looking for,” she trailed off, returning to behind the shelves. Her fingers trailed lightly over the spine of the books she had just organized. She heard him walk behind her accompanying her to wherever she intended to go. “What are you looking for?” she turned around to see him, and saw him gulp nervously. 

“Romance,” he blurted out. “How about a romance?”

“Ummm,” she hummed, her eyes once more trailing over the spines of the books. “A love story or a real romantic type of book? You know with loads of self pity and drama. Or maybe just a very long and nice novel?”

He laughed airly. “Surprise me,” he teased, and it seemed all his nerves were gone. 

She smirked. “Okay then.” She pulled a book off the shelf. It wasn’t a big book, it couldn’t be longer than 300 pages. She gave it to him. “ _Epitaph of a Small Winner_ ,” she said. “A romance, a realist one but nevertheless a romance.”

He grabbed the book, looking tiny in his big hands. His fingers tracing the title delicately. “What is it about?”

“A dead person narrating their life and reflecting upon it,” she shrugged. “A very interesting read indeed, but you’d have to do a bit of research. It’s set in 1880s Brazil.”

“I’m okay with that,” he smiled looking at her. “Any more recs?”

“Not for now,” she smirked. “How else am I going to have you come back if I give all my recommendations at once?”

His smile faltered for a split second before taking permanent residence on his face. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t come back even if you did give me all your recommendations?”

She was left speechless. She felt heat coming up to her cheeks and he looked somewhat proud he left her flustered like that. “Well then, do make sure you come back after you’ve finished.”

“I will, Y/N.”

#

#

#

Jason didn’t know why he went back to the bookshop. He truly didn’t. 

He wasn’t expecting to see her working there. He wasn’t expecting to see her at all, actually. He barely even remembered her from his middle school days. He vaguely remembered finding her pretty and he knew she was very smart. Other than that, she was basically a stranger to him. Just like that version of himself was a stranger to him now. 

It was a surprise to say the least. She had grown up marvelously, from what he remembered at least. She wore glasses now, and in his opinion it only made her prettier. His breath caught in his throat just remembering the sight of her that first time. His brothers caught up in his behavioral shift, and teased him endlessly. Jason stopped that rather quickly: it’s easy when you’re bigger and more intimidating than them. It also helps that they’re desperately trying to maintain the thin and fragile relationship they had. 

Jason wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to finish those books to see her again, but he did. He wanted to say he hadn’t rushed to read her recommendation, but he did. He finished it in a day. He wished he had read it sooner. Somehow he felt like that sometimes, a dead man narrating his own story. At least he was strikingly different from the protagonist. At least he wasn’t an asshole. Not most times anyways. 

He went back to the shop the next day, around closing time--he realized they were closing early and he wondered if it had anything to do with the incident Y/N was involved in. He was sure she would be there. Something told him that she would. He got in, as quietly as he could. The store was empty, after all it was a Thursday afternoon. The door made the usual bell sound behind him, and Y/N appeared behind the shelves, her face stony. 

“I finished it,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back at him, and his heart did a somersault. “That was fast, it is not an easy read.”

“Well, it was a very good book,” he pointed. “It’s easier when the book’s good.”

“What did you think of it?” she asked curiously.

“It’s very complex,” he began. “You want to believe Brás but he’s just so….”

“Insufferable?”

“Exactly. And he’s a hypocrite too. Which just drives me fucking nuts,” he ran his hands through his hair. “The parallels you can make to the present, though, are just… very daunting,” he added. “It’s impressive the guy wrote this stuff in the nineteenth century and...” he trailed off.

“Society hasn’t changed one bit since then,” she completed him, her eyes glinting. She was smiling pleasantly, and Jason found it confusing, after all they were talking about something entirely serious. “So, you here for another rec?” She changed the subject.

“If you have one, I’d like that,” he said sheepishly. 

She smirked. “Let’s see,” she moved to behind the shelves once again, her eyes trailing the books expertely. “How about a nice little love story, huh?”

He shrugged, his heart beating harder in his chest. “Sure, why not.”

She smiled at him and took out a yellowish cover with a dagger drawn across it. The title was written in the middle of the cover in nice flowery letters. “It’s about a girl that has a special power. And she kinda is trained to be an assassin of sorts, and she is set to a quest with a prince that has the same gift as her. Kinda. But you get the gist.”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, his fingers trailing slightly over the title. 

“It’s an YA novel so be kind to it,” she warned. 

“I’ll be.”

They both made their way to the cash register. She was behind the counter when Jason’s phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered it without even looking at the caller. “Hello?” he said, trapping his phone between his shoulder and ear, to fish the money for the book out of his pocket.

“Is this Mr. Todd?” the person--a woman--said.

“Yes. Who’s speaking?” he asked. Jason could feel anxiety rising in his body and mind and he tried to push it down. Who the fuck was this person and, most importantly, how the fuck did she get his number?

“I’m Principal Genoise-Beckham, from Gotham Academy,” she explained. What kind of name was Genoise-Beckham? “I’m calling because of your brother Damian. He got into a fight during the end of the school hours and you’re the next on his contacts list.”

Jason sighed, a twinge of anger sounding through it. “So no one’s available?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr.Todd.”

Not even Alfred, and he knew that for a fact because Jason was the last on the contacts list. Bruce wouldn’t put him any higher, because Bruce doesn’t quite trust him. Not anymore. “I won’t have to sit through any meetings right?”

“No, Mr. Wayne already arranged one,” the principal said, tiredly. 

“Tell the kid I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” and then he hung up. 

She looked at him quizzically, his book neatly packaged in parcel paper with a nice little bow on top of it. “Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned. 

“My brother got into a fight at the Academy and now I have to pick him up,” he said grumpily. 

“Oh,” her face fell, and Jason felt guilty. “I hope your brother’s okay.”

“The little shit probably is,” he gritted through his teeth. He saw a twinge of sadness go through her expression. “Listen,” he started, “I really wanted to stay, but if I don’t pick him up, it’ll start a whole thing with my family and I…” he didn’t complete but he was sure she understood. 

“It’s okay, Jay,” it was the first time she had called him by a nickname, and his heart beated faster at the sound. “I was about to close up anyways.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her eyes a bit glossy. 

He turned around, his book on his hands, when he heard a small ‘Wait’. Jason turned back to her, she was looking at her feet, maybe embarrassed that she had called him, maybe she just didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to go either. “Can you give me a ride?” she asked. “I mean, I live pretty close to Gotham Academy, it wouldn’t be too much of a detour.”

His heart picked up the pace, and he fought a smile. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

She smiled at him. “Great,” she replied. “I just need to pick up my things and we can go.”

She was very quick. She turned the lights off of the entire store and returned to the front desk with a small backpack and a few notebooks in hand. She smiled at him. “Lead the way.” 

Like the gentleman he was raised to be, he took the notebooks from her hands and led the way, Y/N only a few steps behind him. She fished out a key out of her pocket and locked the front door. She tied a chain around the doorknob in a very specific way that almost seemed like a sailor’s knot. She put a locket in the end of the chain, and dragged a metal door down, then locking it to the ground. It seemed excessive, but it was Gotham, and Jason knew first hand what the city was like. 

They walked a few doors down. Jason’s car glistened in the fading sunlight. He was fucking proud of that car. He had fixed everything in it, he knew that machine inside out. He made it what it was, a beautiful and powerful car. It was one of the few things he had done he felt proud of it. 

He unlocked the doors with the alarm--yes, a 1962 black Corvette with electronic alarm, he had done that--and he heard a gasp beside him. He turned to see Y/N and her eyes glistened with amazement. “What?” he asked, confused. 

“You have a ‘62 Corvette?” she asked, shocked. 

“Yeah,” he dragged, still confused. 

“I fucking love this car,” she said completely ignoring him and getting closer to the car, analyzing it carefully. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It really is,” he got around it, looking at the street to see if there were any cars coming down. He then opened the door of his car and got in. “Get in,” he smiled at her. 

She opened a beaming smile. She opened the door and sat on the passenger seat, her bag resting on her feet, her notebooks now on her lap, she noticed the roof of the car on--the better option for the approaching winter--the head rest he had added, the bright red color of the leather seats, and the original panel, even though she knew he most likely altered everything behind it. She looked like a little kid in it, and Jason could get used to the sight of her beside him. 

He started the car and she squealed excitedly at the sound of the motor. He looked at her, a small smile on her face. “Is it the original motor?” she asked. “It doesn’t sound like it, it sounds electrical.”

“That’s ‘cause it is electrical,” he responded. “The original one was very poluent so I switched it.”

“That’s so cool,” she said, closing her eyes. Jason hinted she was trying to hear the sounds of the car, like someone you’d listen to music. “This is so cool,” she breathed out. 

He hummed in amusement. “Never met someone who was as passionate about this car as me,” he noted. 

“You didn’t meet people with good taste then,” she joked. “I’ve loved this car since I was a teen. Always wanted one, but I never had it in me to buy it.”

“I found this one in a junkyard basically,” he said. “It was in pretty good condition considering where it was. Spent a year tryin’ to fix it to the original conditions, gave up and then another year buildin’ it to what it is today.”

She looked at him, he noticed out of the corner of the eye, incredulously. “You’re so fucking cool, Jason,” she said. “You’re beyond cool, you’re just…” she trailed off. He looked at her quickly and she had a shy smile and she was looking at her hands. 

“Thank you,” he thanked her. “People haven’t found me cool in,” he let out a breath, “forever.”

“Well, you haven’t been walking with very nice people then,” she said. “No offense to your friends, but you’re just… you’re special, Jay.”

And, fuck, did he love hearing that from her. She left him speechless. She turned to him and saw his stony expression--an expression of panic and chock, not of disgust as she thought--and she inhaled sharply. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she said, desperately trying to correct her mistake. “I said too much. Forget I said anything, please,” she completed, smally. 

“It’s okay, love,” he replied softly, the car stopping slowly at the intersection. He turned to her. He grabbed her hands, that were twisting nervously in her lap--a nervous tick he remembered noticing she had in school--and looked at her softly. “You’re fucking special too, Y/N.”

She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears. “I--” she hesitated. She smiled at him, sniffing and wiping her eyes with one of her hands, the other still intertwined in Jason’s. “Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

He smiled at her. “I’m just saying the truth, love.”

That made her even more flustered. “You’re just being kind,” she said, shyly, looking at her hands entangled with his. She removed her hands of his, the traffic light turned green and Jason resumed driving the car. 

“No, I’m not,” he denied her. “I’m telling you the truth. You’re special, and you’re amazing, Y/N.”

She shook her head in denial, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth. “I’m not all that great,” she whispered. “I’m pretty annoying in fact. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t believe you. Why’d you think that?”

She shrugged. “When you spend your whole childhood and teenagedom hearing that you’re nothing but an annoying crybaby nerd, you start to believe it at some point.”

Jason swallowed tickly at her remark. He couldn’t believe what she had just said. “Who said that to you?”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to worry,” she replied, dismissing his concern. “It’s over now.”

“But it still hurts you,” he noted. He noticed how this could easily apply to him. How he easily would get worked up on the little things Bruce would mention and Jason would brush it, say it’s over, it doesn’t matter, when it clearly does. It fucking does. 

She looked at her hands, and sniffed. “It’ll always hurt, I guess.”

Jason was rarely speechless. But, at that moment, he didn’t know what to say. Because he remembered hearing those things about her. He remembered people talking about her in that way, saying she was weird, and that they only talked to her when they needed help with homework. Admittedly, he never ever said those things about her--he didn’t even believe those things--but he never said a word to those who called her that. And that, arguably, was worse than saying those things. 

He struggled to conciliate that guilt with the fact that he didn’t even feel like that boy--he wasn’t that boy anymore. That boy died by the hands of a clown. What had emerged from it was something entirely different. And yet, he still felt guilt over something he hadn’t done when he was that kid. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, Jay,” she said, her hands finding his, on the gear shift. “You didn’t do anything.”

“But I--” he started, “I didn’t say anything about it. I knew about those things and I didn’t stop them.”

She looked at him, and he saw by the corner of his eye. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure you were going through other stuff and you just wanted to fit in.”

How was she so fucking understanding? He scoffed lightly. The thing is: he wasn’t trying to fit in, he was trying to stay out of sight. So he just listened and said nothing. “How are you so good?” He said, incredulously. He was the first person to say Gotham was rotten, head to toe, and yet there she was, fucking pure soul. 

“I guess I just am,” she shrugged. 

And then they fell in a comfortable silence. Her hand was still in his, and he fought the urge to bring her knuckles to his lips and plant a kiss on it. Every now and then he would steal glances at her, and he swore she was glowing in the orange sunlight peaking in the window. 

“That’s me,” she said, pointing to a tall modern building a block before Gotham Academy. 

“That’s a big fancy building,” he noted slowly. 

“It’s one of my parents’ apartments,” she explained. “I live in it rent free, but I have to pay for electricity and food and stuff. It was the condition for using it. They insisted they’d pay the tuition and I demanded this apartment in return, ‘cause I wanted to pay the tuition and they wanted to--” she trailed off noticing a weird look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I ranted.”

“It’s fine, I like to hear you talk,” he said, smiling. 

She smiled back, looking at her feet. “Well, I should get going,” she said opening the car door. “Thanks for the ride, Jason.”

“No problem, love,” he shook his head slightly, and looked at her softly. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on his, already out of the car. “Bye,” she finished awkwardly and quickly walked to the building. 

Jason watched as she floated to her home, mesmerized by her. 

_Fuck._

#

#

#

“Red Hood has been following me,” she manifested her psychologist looking at her with wide eyes. “It’s weird to say it out loud.”

“Why do you say that?” her psychologist asked. 

“‘Cause I’ve seen him,” she replied. “A couple of times actually.”

“Are you sure?” the therapist asked. 

“Yes, I am,” she nodded enthusiastically. “I just don’t get why he’s following me.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be a good guy?” her therapist quizzed. “Following people doesn’t seem like a good guy thing to do.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m not scared though. I know I should be, but I’m not,” she commented. “I know I haven’t done anything wrong, there's no reason for him to be following me, at least no reason like that. I don’t know,” she sighed, “maybe he just wants to be my guardian angel,” she shrugged. 

“It sure is a weird angel,” the therapist noted. “Have you talked about this with Jason?”

“I did mention it to him,” she nodded. “But he got all weird about it and changed the subject quickly.”

“That’s strange.”

“Yeah, he definitely knows something about this,” she said smugly. “I really want to find out.”

“Well, on the topic of Jason,” her therapist said as if she hadn’t brought him up, “how’s things with him?”

“They’re okay,” she shrugged. “He comes to see me at work almost every day. Then he walks me to my car or gives me a ride home.”

“I see,” the psychologist noted. “And what do you guys talk about?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled under her breath. “Mostly about books. Sometimes about life,” she recounted. “He’s very reserved. He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

“And you? Do you talk about yourself?” 

She hesitated. There was no point in lying to her therapist, it would go against the very definition of therapy and if there was one thing she hated was hypocrisy. “No,” she shook her head quietly, “I-- everytime I try, something happens and…” she shrugged. “I guess I’m too scared of scaring him off.”

“Y/N…” the therapist warned. “You need to open up to him. How do you expect him to stick around if you don’t share things about you?”

“To be fair,” she said raising her finger as if it would make the point she was about to make more believable, “I’ve talked about myself once with him and it was… fuck, it was hard.”

“How did he react?” the therapist inquired. “Was he a dick?”

“No!” she was quick to reply. “He was the sweetest. But I’m just…”

“Depriving yourself of a potential relationship,” her therapist completed for her. “You’re sabotaging yourself, Y/N.”

“No, I’m not,” she denied, fooling herself. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up and end up heartbroken.”

The psychologist sighed. “I know you’re scared of getting hurt, but you’ll never know unless you let him in,” the therapist stated. “You might be pushing him away and sabotaging yourself when investing in this relationship could very well be something right for you,” she finished.

“I know,” she mumbled. “But I just,” she sighed, defeated. “I’m scared.”

“I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try,” her therapist added softly. 

“Okay,” she nodded, softly. 

#

#

#

She waited at the edge of her seat for Jason to come in at the store. She was going to try. Fuck, she hoped she didn’t mess anything up. Up until that moment she didn’t know what she was doing, she just did it. She hoped she knew what she was about to do. 

The bell rang and Jason walked in, his hair swept by the chilly wind and his hands stuffed in his jeans’ pockets. He wore that leather jacket she loved so much, it made him so much more beautiful. She just wanted to grab him by his shirt and kiss him to no end. She smiled at him and he smiled back. 

“I was waiting for you,” she announced happily. 

“Yeah?” he said, leaning on his elbows. His face was inches away from hers. His pupils were blown wide, his blue eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t quite place yet. “Excited for the next rec, huh?” he smirked. 

“No, actually,” she corrected him. “I needed to tell you something.”

“Oh,” he said. “Go ahead then, I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her heart racing at his comment. She swallowed nervously, looking him in the eye. This was it. She was going to open up to him. “I was talking to my therapist actually,” she started, “and we agreed--actually no,” she laughed. “She said that I need to open up and be vulnerable more. And it may seem a bit weird that I’m saying this to you but I swear there’s a reason. So here it goes,” she breathed out. “I really like you, Jay. Like, really _really_ like you. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed weird or standoffish or anything, I’m trying to work on that. So if you want to, I don’t know, take this, um, friendship somewhere else, maybe somewhere romantic, I’d be, you know, happy to take it there too. With you, I mean.”

He smiled genuinely at her. His eyes shifted to her hands. She was twisting her fingers nervously. He rested his hand on hers, her hand immediately relaxing under his touch. “I’d like that,” he responded quietly. “Wanna go on a date tonight?”

She smiled, her eyes a bit teary. Her heart raced in her chest, the worst case scenario hadn’t come true. He liked her too. He wanted to date too. Her anxiety was wrong. Thank God for that. “Yeah, I do,” she confessed. 

His smile got bigger somehow. “Great,” he breathed out, and she could feel the nerves leaving his body. “I’ll pick you up at 8,” he stated. 

She smiled at him. “Great.”

#

#

#

“I need you to cover patrol for me,” Jason said to Tim, his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. He carried a bouquet of flowers, bags from the market and a suit he had it pressed and sent to the Iceberg Lounge.

“Why?” Tim quizzed him. 

“‘Cause I have a thing,” Jay responded. 

“Yeah, Imma need more than that, Jay,” Tim said. “What thing?”

“You’re a little fucker”, he answered, resting the bags on the floor. “You just want gossip.”

“No, I want a reason why I’ll have to add the Narrows to my patrol tonight,” Tim argued. “It’s quite far from my usual route, y’know.”

“Fuck you, Tim,” Jason muttered. 

“Why such hostility?” Tim teased. Jason could practically hear his brother’s smirk over the phone. “Is someone going on a date tonight?”

Jason exhaled deeply, trying not to lose his temper and drive to Wayne Towers to choke his brother to death. He was on a schedule, he had dinner to prepare. “Will you cover for me or not?”

“Will you tell me why you're ditching patrol?”

“No,” Jason gritted through his teeth. 

“Then no,” Tim said plainly. Jason knew he was messing with him. 

Jason sighed. There was no way he’d cancel on Y/N. Not because his motherfucking brother was toying with him. “I swear to God, Drake, if you tell anyone I'll kill you the most painful way possible.”

“So you are going on a date,” Tim stated. 

“Fuck,” Jason sighed. “Yes, I am. Now, please Timothy, would you cover patrol for me tonight?”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Tim,” Jason started.

“Or boy, I don’t judge.”

“Will you cover the motherfucking patrol?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim dismissed. 

“Thank you,” Jason sighed relieved. 

“Will you introduce me to t--”

Jason hung up on his brother. He had a date to get ready to. 

#

#

#

Jason spent the rest of his afternoon getting everything ready for the date. The food, the flowers, the ambiance of the roof. Everything was perfect, just like she fucking deserved. 

He was nervous out of his mind. His hands were sweating and he couldn’t stop running his hands through his hair in a nervous habit. It was so long ago the last time he had gone on a date with someone he cared this much about. He didn’t want to screw it up. 

She was so precious, so good. He didn’t know what someone like her saw in someone like him, someone tainted and broken. But she saw something, and she wanted him. And he wasn’t dumb, he wasn’t going to let her go. Even if everything in his life told him to run from her, protect her from a distance, don’t get close ‘cause she’ll become a target. 

And he was doing just that, he was protecting from a distance as the Hood. He was being fucking dumb about it too, cause she had seen him more than once. But being distant was not enough, not anymore. 

So there he was, in front of her apartment, black ‘62 Corvette, crisp black suit and blood red t-shirt. His hair was messy and his hands were in his pockets. He leaned on the hood of the car, waiting patiently for her to come to his encounter. He was early anyways, he could wait, even if he hated the looks of pity he was receiving. She would come and those fucking pedestrians knew nothing. 

She opened the doors and stepped on the sidewalk. She was wearing a beautiful red knee-length dress with black heels and Jason was just paralyzed at her sight. Fucking hell. How can someone be so perfect? How can someone so perfect want him?

She stopped in front of him, a smile framing her face beautifully, her glasses crystal clean. “You look great, Jay,” she stated. 

“I--” he opened his mouth but no words came out of his mouth. Her face fell and her eyes flashed with worry. 

“What’s wrong?” she said. “Is everything okay?”

He breathed out and smiled at her. “Everything’s perfect, love,” he said. He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “You look breathtakin’.”

She looked down shyly. “Thank you, Jay.”

He opened the door of the car for her. She thanked him kindly, and he closed the door for her. He entered the car and started the engine. “Where’re we going?” she quizzed him.

He looked at her with a smirk. “It’s a surprise,” he stated. “It’s part of the charm.”

She smiled at him. “You don’t need to surprise me to charm me, Jason.”

“Cute you think that, but you’ll see,” he responded. “This is going to be a perfect night.”

She looked at him and sighed quietly, like she was considering something. “It’s already perfect. I’m here with you,” she said coyly. 

Jason looked at her quickly, her gaze fixed on him. He smiled shyly. One of his hands left the wheel and found hers, holding it tightly. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed it softly. He wanted to say three little words, and he almost did. But she was too precious and he couldn’t just waste those words in a moment like this, an immature moment at that. No, he would cherish her like she was supposed too. He would love her in secret for now, and when he was sure she reciprocated his feelings he would say it with all his heart, he would shout it from the highest rooftop. 

But, for now, he just looked at her, hoping his look was enough to say what he couldn’t. She smiled like she understood what he was trying to say. 

Yeah, she was perfect. He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. Fuck the voices in his head saying to run. For once in his life he was going to welcome this feeling with open arms. 

#

#

#

“So, how was your week?” her therapist quizzed. 

“It was great, actually,” she said. “Jay took me to the museum in Metropolis. I did well in a test and I got my salary early so I bought a new pin for my collection.”

“You’re sure spending a lot of time with Jason,” the psychologist noted. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed softly. “I really like him, you know.”

“I do know,” the therapist replied. “How does it feel to be in a relationship?”

She looked down at her hands, flustered. “It feels nice and weird and...and…” she trailed off. “I have no words to describe it.”

Her therapist smiled at her. “He seems like a nice guy, Y/N,” she commented. “How do your friends like him?”

She twisted her hands nervously. “Henry was suspicious of him at first,” she started. “You know, Jay’s a bit shy and intimidating, Henry was concerned he’d hurt me.”

“And how did you react to his concern?”

“I mean,” she shrugged, “it’s a valid concern. But Jay wouldn’t…” she hesitated. “We’ve talked about this, y’know? He knows where I stand, he knows where my fears come from and he gave me his word,” she sniffed, her voice strained. “He promised. And so far he didn’t break any of his promises.”

“You do trust him a lot,” the therapist noticed. 

“I trust him with my life,” she added. “I hope he doesn’t break that trust.”

She hummed and wrote something down. “What about your other friends?” her therapist questioned. “I know Henry means the world to you, but he’s not your only friend.”

“Julie thought he was okay and the other boys were just very neutral about it,” she explained. “You know how they’re like. As long as I’m happy they’ll be supportive.”

“Are you happy?” the psychologist inquired. 

“Yeah,” she replied enthusiastically. “Fuck yeah. Jay’s just… He’s the best, you know. He gets me. He’s respectful and he’s smart and handsome. I really like him.”

Her therapist smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N,” she said. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“It sure has,” she chuckled quietly. 

“How about the Red Hood?” the therapist asked. “Have you seen him lately?”

“All the time,” she replied. “Ever since I started dating Jay, I’ve seen the Hood when I wasn’t with him.”

“Doesn’t that concern you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s weird but it doesn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He seems familiar, you know? Not because I’ve seen him up close or seen him more times than I can count but…” she pondered. “His posture and his stance, it’s so so familiar to me. I wonder if I’ve met him as a civilian.”

“You could have,” her therapist pondered. “How does Jason think of this?”

“He doesn’t,” she answered. “He always changes the subject very quickly every time I bring it up.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “I know he’s up to something. I just haven’t had the courage to ask him. Yet.”

#

#

#

Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

Jason messed up. He messed up bad. 

He could live with the fact she had seen him a couple of times lurking in rooftops making sure she was safe. He could live with the fact she was onto him, that she knew he was hiding something from her, something related to the Hood. Jason knew eventually he would have to tell her, this double life would become unsustainable, and he’d have to merge it into one. As much as he dreaded that day, he would fucking do it. 

But when she sat him down in her living room and said that she knew he was the Hood, he knew, he was fucking sure, he should have been more careful. 

“I’m not mad, y’know,” she said quietly. “I get why you hid from me.”

Jason remained quiet, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “How did you find out?”

A smile passed on her face. “You were just so familiar, I guess,” she explained. “You felt so familiar even from afar. So I just started connecting the dots.”

“I see,” he whispered. His heart beated faster and faster with anxiety. He couldn’t handle it, he thought he would have more time to tell her. He hadn’t realized she could very well discover on her own, he had given her enough clues to do just so. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s fine, Jason,” she replied quietly. “You don’t need to feel sorry.”

“I feel like I should,” he said. He sighed and grabbed her hands softly. “I owe you an explanation, Y/N.”

“You don’t owe me anything besides your safety,” she cut him. “I don’t care about what you do at night, Jason. I care about you, I--” she looked at him, trying to search for something in his eyes. “I love you, Jay. And I don’t think I could bear to lose you.”

Jason opened his mouth in shock. He wasn’t expecting that. “I love you,” he replied to her. “I’ve fucking loved you ever since I laid eyes on you, Y/N,” he grabbed her face and rested his forehead on hers. “I was just so scared to let you in on the secret. ‘Cause I know of the dangers, I know first hand how fucking dangerous this life is, and loosing you would kill me,” he explained. “For the second time,” he whispered. 

Her hands rested on his cheeks, her thumb caressing him gently. She kissed him, softly, and he reciprocated it. 

“I want to tell you,” Jason whispered, against her lips. “I have to tell you, how I became what I became.”

“You don’t n--” she began. 

“I do, though,” he interrupted her. “I do,” he whispered. He sighed, and looked down. He held her wrists carefully. “If you don’t want to see me after everything I tell you, I’ll understand. I won’t blame you.”

“Imma stop you right there,” she looked him in the eyes. “You think I don’t know anything, but I know a couple of things, Jay. I did my research on the Hood,” she commented. “You don’t scare me.”

“There are things that I’ve done that…” he shook his head. 

“It’s okay, Jay,” she said softly. “One step at a time, love.”

So he took one step at a time. He told her everything carefully. Some details were left behind, he couldn’t say them out loud, not even if he wanted to. She held his hands through it all, and he was truly grateful for it. 

“I had no idea,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“You don’t have to be,” he shook his head and squeezed her hands. “It led me to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to check out my jason playlist at this link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Nh075QWD4ElJuOVJevRzM?si=vWM2Det-QmGSEkNr2y95Gw
> 
> thanks for reading :)


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